


Dear Pines Family

by onionstories



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Human Bill Cipher, also no its not romantic hes 13 in this, but if i say it itll just. spoil the WHOLE THING, but proceed with caution, doesnt mean that its perfectly non-warnable, just because it says no archive warnings apply, sure the ARCHIVE ones dont apply but it does deal with a Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onionstories/pseuds/onionstories
Summary: Dipper returns to the Shack for another summer vacation, hoping for this one to have a little less demons in it after last summer's Weirdmageddon fiasco. But when he arrived at the Shack, he saw a sight he never expected to see: Bill Cipher got his hands on a new,permanentvessel; one that he couldn't leave- and his uncles were letting him stay in the Shack! Determined to find out why he was there in the first place, Dipper steals a letter addressed to him- or rather, his entire family. When he reads that letter, he'll find out things about his enemy that he would've never believed were true.





	Dear Pines Family

_Wednesday, June 19._

_It’s been one week since I returned to Gravity Falls, only to face my greatest enemy: Bill Cipher! I thought he died, but he’s back, and in a human body somehow. At least he won’t possess anyone. Grunkle Stan said that he’s harmless, but I’m still gonna watch him. If there’s one person who isn’t “harmless,” it’s Bill Cipher._

_He’s in the kitchen now, doing this weird thing with a knife. He’s swinging it above his wrist like a pendulum, and just staring at his wrist as it just instantly heals itself over and over. Why is he doing this? That’s HIS body, what does he gain from hurting it? Whatever, I’m gonna keep watching._

_It’s been 20 minutes now. Should I stop him?_

In the few seconds Dipper took to look away and write the last sentence, one thing changed. Bill had gone from watching the lazily swinging knife go back and forth, slicing his wrist as it heals instantly, leaving a faint scar, to doing the exact same thing but with his healing power somehow not working, the same bleeding spot hit over and over. Dipper’s eyes widened and he threw his journal aside, rushing over to him.

“Dude, snap out of it!” He yelled. “You’re getting blood all over the table!”

“Hm- Pinetree!” Bill snapped out of his trance and glared at him. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to sneak up on people??” He wildly gestured with his arms, blood flying everywhere.

“You’re getting blood on my shirt! What’s _wrong_ with you?”

 _“Go AWAY!”_ Bill’s shrill voice hurt Dipper’s ears as he stormed over to the sink and washed the blood off. Dipper jumped at the yell and took a step back.

“You…. okay?” He nervously asked, the slightest bit of concern growing.

“I’m. _Fine.”_ Bill hissed through grit teeth. _“It’ll. Heal.”_

Dipper grabbed his journal and prepared to run. “By the way, _you’re_ cleaning this up!!”

He could hear Bill screeching that he’d do no such thing as he ran away. He made a quick note in his journal, pushing the concern down.

 _Bill’s healing powers can stop working. Is that what he was testing? But then why’d he keep doing…._ **_that_ ** _after he started bleeding? I guess I shouldn’t think about it much. It’s probably nothing._

* * *

Dinner was always tense during the week Dipper has been there, but he felt extra discomfort in the air that night. Bill’s arm rested on the table, a bandage firmly wrapped around his wrist. He poked at his food with his other hand, glaring at his plate.

“Hey, Bill…” Mabel broke the silence, looking at him with concern. “What happened to your arm?”

His glare snapped to her, and he pounded his fist onto the table. _“Nothing!”_ He yelled. Causing Mabel to shrink back and everyone else to stare at him. Stan sighed and adjusted his glasses.

“You were playin’ with the knives again, werent’cha, kid?”

Bill shot up and balled his hands into fists. “I wasn’t _playing!”_ He screamed, shaking from anger. “It was _IMPORTANT!_ And _don’t_ call me that!”

Dipper looked at Bill through half-lidded eyes. “Yeah, dude, you were playing. You were just fooling around with your healing powers.”

_“THAT’S NOT WHAT I WAS DOING!”_

Ford grimaced at Bill’s pitch, while Stan just sighed again.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re not supposed to touch the knives. _Or_ the forks, alone.”

 _“WHAT?_ You think I’m some _KID_ who can’t handle a FORK? Or at you afraid I’ll do **_THIS!”_ **

With that, he suddenly slammed the form he was eating with into the flesh of his arm. Mabel shrieked and stared at him, horrified, as did Dipper and Stan. The fork was embedded into his arm, deep enough that it stayed in place with Bill let go of it. Ford glanced up at his food to regard him.

“You’re causing a scene, Cipher,” he warned, malice in his voice. ‘Don’t think I won’t kick you out.”

“Aww, come on, Fordsy! I just got stabbed, cut me some slack!”

“You stabbed _yourself,”_ Ford corrected. “You aren’t getting any sympathy for these pseudo-self-destructive stunts, Cipher. We’re all sick of your games.”

Bill’s anger melted away as Ford returned to eating.

“Pseudo… That wasn’t even what I wanted to do _anyways,_ so wrong again, Sixer!" He started tugging at the fork, his face twisting with pain. Stan reluctantly got up and grabbed Bill’s good arm, dragging him off somewhere. Dipper could hear Stan saying something about cleaning Bill’s arm up, and the main in question whining about how he could take care of it himself.

“You think he’s gonna be okay…?” Mabel asked, concern still written all over her face.

“He’ll be fine, Mabel, don’t worry about it!”

A loud, agonized scream rang out, causing Ford to grimace, and Mabel to look even more concerned.

“Well…” Dipper nervously offered, “At least the fork’s out…?”

Mabel sighed. “Yeah…” She pushed herself away from the table. “I’m not really hungry anymore.” Dipper sighed, and got up too.

“Yeah, me neither.”

* * *

In their shared room, Dipper made a quick journal entry on that night. As he set the book aside, Mabel looked at him.

“Dipper, I’m worried about him,” she confessed. Dipper hated to admit it, even to himself, but there was a tiny, nagging feeling of worry tugging at him, too.

“Like, maybe something’s _really wrong!”_ She continued. “Maybe he’s hurting!”

“Come on, Mabel, do you even hear yourself?” Dipper said, pushing his worry down in an attempt to snuff it out. “It’s _Bill._ Why would he be _hurting?_ Plus, he’s so creepily happy, _all day,_ so when is he even hurting?”

“I dunno! At night? I’m just _worried!”_

Dipper sighed. “I know, Mabel. But he’s fine, Great-uncle Ford said so!”

Mabel pouted. “He never said he was _fine!”_

“Well, he said he was just doing all this stuff for attention! That’s basically being fine, right?”

“I-” Mabel hesitated. “What if Grunkle Ford is _wrong?”_

“What do you mean?”

“What if he _isn’t_ doing it for attention like he said!”

Dipper felt his worry return. “Great-uncle Ford knows Bill better than _anyone._ We can trust him when he says what’s up.” He gave Mabel a reassuring, albeit weak, smile.

“But… _fine.”_ She flopped down on her bed, but she was obviously still deep in thought.

“Mabel, I _promise_ he’s fine, okay?”

She weakly smiled at him. “Thanks, bro-bro.” The lights were turned off, but Dipper saw her face slip right back into that concerned expression, when she thought he wasn’t looking.

* * *

Dipper awoke to a crash outside his bedroom door. He shot upright, frantically looking around, only to see light coming through the window and Mabel fast asleep. He stared at the door to their room, not even daring to breathe, anxiously waiting for another sound. The silence was suffocating, his throat closing up from the morbid anticipation.

No sound came, however, only the sound of Dipper’s shaky breathing, once he dared to let himself take breaths again. He anxiously lay down again, about to shut his eyes, when he heard a scuffling noise. Heart crawling into his throat, he slipped out of bed and slowly made his way to the door. He didn’t dare to open it, instead lying facedown on the floor and peering out from the gap between the door and the floor.

Bill was there, figures, it seemed all bad things nowadays were because of him. Every tense moment, every conflict. Dipper wondered if Bill knew this. He must not have known, or just didn’t care, because he chose to sneak up to the attic early in the morning, knocking things over to find Ford’s journals. He chose to keep them, as Ford saw them as a part of himself, the good and the bad sides, and this couldn’t bear to part with them; but also chose to keep them in the attic, buried behind everything.

The first two journals were discarded, face-down on the floor, the third in Bill’s hands as he frantically flipped through it, as if he was looking for something. Sometimes, he’d pause, lingering on a page, just staring at it, before returning to his rifling. He got to one page, however, and stopped. The wide-eyes, frantic, but hopeful expression melted away, replaced with a blank, dejected stare, one with hints of regret. Dipper waited for something to happen, for Bill to suddenly look up, stare at the door, and laugh, yelling that he tricked him between giggles.

But he didn’t. All he did was weakly thumb through a few pages, holding onto the book with such a weak grip that Dipper thought it would fall out of his hands. He watched Bill for only a second more, before getting up from the floor and heading back to bed, making sure to make noise. That demon needed to know that he can’t just expect to get away with anything that he did. He smiled to himself as he heard the journal slip out of Bill’s grasp, hitting the floor with a _thud._ Dipper supposed he froze up in shock. As Dipper sat back in bed, he heard thundering down the stairs. He closed his eyes in thought, resolving to confront the demon. Whatever sick, insane scheme he was planning, it wouldn’t work. He’d make sure he didn’t even come close.

* * *

Bill’s room was the old storage room for Stan’s wax figures, graciously given to the demon when Stan remembered it wasn’t being used for anything. Dipper nervously knocked on the door, he would’ve come earlier but he’d accidentally fallen back asleep.

“What?” He heard Bill yell. Dipper’s heart crawled in his throat.

“U-uh, it’s me…” He called back, mentally chiding himself for his stuttering.

Bill stayed silent for a few agonizing seconds, before telling Dipper to come in. Letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he twisted the knob and stepped in. Perhaps falling back asleep for a few hours, allowing Bill to calm down from the journal incent, worked in his favor.

The room was tiny, but messy, the few clothes Bill owned strewn across the floor—save for one sweater Dipper recognized as the one Mabel gifted to him when he arrived—it was gently placed on a chair. Candy wrappers and soda cans littered the floor like the demon hasn’t thrown a single thing away since he started living here. Bill sat on his mattress, staring at Dipper, a book about cryptology obviously stolen from Ford resting next to him.

Well?” He said, annoyed. “Did you want something?”

Dipper froze up for a second, trying to think of what to say. “Um… how’s your arm?” He asked, with a tremor in his voice.

It’ll heal.” Bill touched where he stabbed himself the previous night. Dipper guessed Stan wrapped it in gauze, but he couldn’t tell because Bill was wearing long sleeves. “What do you _really_ want?”

He took a deep breath. “Bill, what were you doing this morning?”

The demon made no effort to hide his annoyance. “I was reading, Pinetree! Is that not _allowed?_ It’s none of your business anyway!”

Well, when you’re reading the Journals, it kind of _is_ my business!” He took a step closer to Bill, trying his best to look intimidating. All Bill did was roll his eyes and glance at the cryptology book he was reading.

“If you wanna know so badly, _fine._ I was looking for something.”

Another step. “Looking for what, _Bill?_ ”

“Jeez, calm down, Pinetree—”

“ _Don’t call me that!”_

“—okay, okay, fine! Dipper-”

“Don’t mock it!”

“I’m not mocking it! Let-”

“Like I’d believe you-”

“I don’t CARE if you don’t believe me--”

“Of COURSE you don’t! You don’t care about ANYONE-”

“--shut UP and _LET ME EXPLAIN!”_

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“I can tell you to do ANYTHING I want--”

“--No you can’t!”

“--And you can’t do anything to stop me, Bill”

**_“ENOUGH!”_ **

Bill’s clenched fists were suddenly engulfed in blue flames, singing the tips of his sleeves. His eyes widened just a second later and he snuffed out the flames, trying to hide his heavy breathing. The two stared at each other, the anger having completely left Dipper.

“What was _that_?” Bill said, picking his book up and fidgeting with it.

“I, uh, don’t know.” Dipper admitted. “But seriously, Bill, _what_ were you looking for?”

“Does it matter? I didn’t find it.”

He could hear the faint sounds of disappointment in Bill’s voice, and suspicion nagged at him once more.

“It has to do with that book, doesn’t it?”

A sigh. “ _No,_ Pine- _Dipper,_ I just got really bored! There’s nothing to do here, so I stole a book from Sixer.”

“Oh.” Dipper stood there awkwardly for what he thought was an incredibly long time, but it was really only a few seconds. “Well, I know it’s something bad either way.”

Bill was silent for a little while, then he spoke, slowly and hesitantly: “Well, it’s _relative_ if it’s bad or not.” He looked away avoiding Dipper’s gaze.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is it bad or not?”

Bill shrugged. “Like I said, it’s relative! It depends on the person!”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Well, is it good or bad to you?”

He shrugged. “I dunno! Good I think?”

“Good, you _think?”_ Dipper repeated. “How can you not know?”

“I just don’t, okay?” Bill slammed his book down on the table next to him, causing a piece of paper to get knocked to the floor.” It depends on the person!”

Dipper had tuned Bill out, instead focusing on the paper. It was folded over three-ways, with _Dear Pines Family_ written on it in the sloppy handwriting that was obviously Bill’s.

“Hey, what’s that?” He reached for it, but Bill shot out and grabbed it before Dipper could.

“ _It’s nothing! Don’t touch it!_ ”

“O...kay… but it has my name on it. I should see it.”

Bill roughly opened a drawer and shoved the letter into it. “Listen to me, Dipper,” he said, dropping any signs of carefreeness. “ _You don’t want to read that letter._ ”

“So, it’s something bad?”

“Not for me!” His overly cheerful attitude returned in an instant. “And not for you, either! Everybody wins!”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “So… why can’t I read it?”

“It’s not _ready_!” Bill snapped.

“Not… ready? Like, you’re still writing it—”

“No! It’s not time yet! This is _huge_! Well, maybe not for you….”

“Bill!” Dipper glared at him. “I’m _fed up_!” What are you planning?”

“Nothing important, Pinetree!”

Dipper bit back another retort. “Fine.” If Bill wasn’t going to tell him, he’d just steal that letter for himself. Bill wasn’t going to trick him, or anyone else, ever again. Before Bill could say anything else, Dipper turned on his heel and walked out of Bill’s room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Stealing that thing was easier than Dipper thought it would be. All he had to do was wait for Bill to leave his room, then slip in. He felt his pulse quicken as he walked towards the drawer Bill shoved it in. As he opened it, his hand shook, thinking that Bill would jump out from behind him and burn him alive for rifling through his stuff.

The drawer didn’t have much in it, just more paper, ripped into shreds. Whatever was written on them was scratched out so violently that it made holes and indents in the paper. Dipper didn’t have any time to inspect them, grabbing the slightly crumpled letter and running out of there. Only when he reached his room and slammed the door shut behind him did he allow himself to breathe. He sat down on the side of his bed and stared at what was in his hands.

He _couldn’t believe it_ . He, Dipper Pines, stole something from a demon. Something _important_. He reached to unfold the note, but stopped. What would he find in this thing? A taunting not on how he’ll kill his family? Would it be in a code? Is that why he needed that cryptology book? Was Bill counting on him to steal that note? Is this one big trap?

He stared at it, his hands trembling. Dipper tried to force his hands to listen to him, to just unfold it and read it. And then what, he wondered. Tell someone? Tell no one? Confront Bill? Don’t? What would he do? Would he kill someone? A sickening feeling in Dippers gut said he would. He shakily hid the paper under his mattress, sitting on top of it and gently rocking back and forth to attempt to calm himself. He’d read it the second he was calm, he assured himself. It was urgent; he’d have to push his anxiety aside and read it.

* * *

Three days go by fast when you’re wracked with dread. Every time Dipper thought about reading the letter, his throat closed up with anxiety and it became impossible to breathe. In only a few seconds, he would think of hundreds of possibilities about what it would say; and every time, he lay there paralyzed with fear as opposed to actually looking. Sleepless nights also plagued Dipper ever since he stole; he’d fall asleep, only to wake up shortly after, too anxious to fall back asleep.

On one such night, Dipper was walking back to his room with a glass of water, when he heard sounds coming from Bill’s room- slurred cries in another language. Dipper stepped in front of the door, hesitating. Was it really a good idea to enter Bill’s room uninvited, in the middle of the night? A cry sounded from inside the room, one that was louder and more agonized than all the others, and Dipper made his choice. He slowly opened the door and crept inside, closing it behind him.

Bill was still asleep, curled up on his side, with a pained expression twisted on his face. Every few seconds, he’d whimper in his sleep, shifting around as if to try and get away from something. Dipper sighed and stepped closer to him, laying his hand on Bill’s shoulder.

“Bill!” Dipper sharply whispered, jostling him. “Dude, wake up!”

Bill instantly shot up, eyes frantically darting around his room. He kept muttering a word over and over, as if asking a one-worded question, or calling out a name.

“Bill, it’s me. Dipper.” Once Dipper said his name, Bill stopped talking and looked right at him, deflating.

“Oh. Pinetree.” He took ragged breaths, starved for oxygen after his panicked hyperventilating. “It’s just you.”

Dipper was about to correct him, but decided to lay off, just this one time.

“Yeah, it’s just me.” He realized he was still gripping Bill’s shoulder, so he awkwardly let go. “Do… you wanna talk about it?”

Bill raised a brow. “Why do you _care?”_

Dipper shrugged. Truth to be told, even he didn’t know why he cared. “I… guess i kinda felt bad when I saw you crying out like that? I dunno, man.

Bill thought for a while, staring off into space. Then, he spoke:

“Sure, why not?” He looked away from Dipper. “Not like it’s gonna matter, anyway,” he muttered to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Pinetree! Just talking to myself!

“Dude… _please_ call me Dipper.”

“But that’s so _booring!”_ Bill whined. “I call _everyone_ by a nickname, it’s my _thing!”_

“But Dipper _is_ my nickname!”

“Yeah, a _boring_ one! _Everyone_ calls you it, so it might as well be your name!”

Dipper sighed. “Well, could you at least call me by a nickname that _isn’t_ Pinetree?”

“Mmm, alright…” Bill thought for a moment. “Pinewood?”

“No.”

“Face-dots?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mystery-hack?”

“That’s just the name of the- look, we’re getting off-topic! We’re supposed to be talking about your nightmare-thing!” It felt strange to say the word “nightmare” in the context of Bill Cipher himself having one. But that was what was happening, and even though Dipper witnessed it firsthand, it was surreal regardless.

“What’s there to talk about?” Bill protested. “It was just- something that happened a long time ago.”

“So it wasn’t a nightmare, it was a memory-mare?”

“I… guess.”

“Could you tell me what happened in it?”

“Stuff.”

“Like… what _kind_ of stuff?”

“It’s none of your _business,_ Pinetree!” Bill stopped for a moment, realizing what he’d just said. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, dude. But why aren’t you telling me? I thought we were gonna talk about your nightmare. Memorymare. Whatever.”

“Yeah.” Bill looked down and played with his sheets. “We were.”

“So...Why aren’t we?”

Bill shrugged. “It’s kinda weird to talk! I don’t wanna!”

“You said you wanted to!”

“I _said,_ ‘why not.’”

“That’s basically saying you wanted to!”

“I don’t, okay?” Bill ran his fingers through his hair, lightly tugging. “I don’t…”

Dipper sighed in understanding. “I get it, dude. I had a lot of nightmares about Weirdm...uh….”

“I’d be an idiot not to expect that. Keep going!”

“R-right,” Dipper fumbled. “Anyway, my point is, I know it’s really hard to talk about. But… it won’t hurt to try. I mean it might. But it can’t hurt as bad as the actual thing you were dreaming about, right?”

Bill stared at him, head slightly cocked to the side. Dipper shrunk back at his gaze, afraid that he did something wrong. The two stared at each other, Dipper’s heart in his throat, too afraid to move. Finally Bill opened his mouth.

“My dimension.”

Dipper blinked, surprised Bill said anything. “Your dimension? You mean the Nightmare Realm or—”

“No,” Bill interrupted. “My other dimension. The old one.”

“Oh…” For some reason, Dipper found it hard to look at Bill. “What… happened to it?”

"I burned it down."

“In the dream?”

“No.”

Dipper felt that blood drain from his face, but before he could even say anything, Bill continued.

“Well, yes and no. That was what it was about, you know?”

“You destroyed your dimension?”

“I’m Bill Cipher, why are you so surprised?”

“I- you- how are you so calm about talking about this! Do you have any idea how many people you killed?”

“Jeez, rub it in some more why dont’cha.” Bill crossed his arms.

“I’m not rubbing it in! It’s just really weird how chill you are!”

“Do you want me to cry?” Bill raised an eyebrow. “Cause I can do it!”

“No. I don’t want you to cry—”

On cue, tears started leaking out of Bill’s eyes, his smile wavering but never fading. “Ta-da!”

Dipper jumped. “Dude! What did you _do?”_

“I can cry on command!”

“That’s...really...nice?” He tried to block out the sniffling sounds. “Can you _stop_ on command?”

“Haha, nope!” Bill wiped his eyes, “I never learned!”

Dipper pushed his face into his hands. “You never… oh my god… You never learned…how to stop… are you just- _stuck_ here crying?”

Bill sniffled and nodded. “I... didn’t really think this through.”

Dipper couldn’t help but giggle. “Do you need a tissue, dude?”

“No. I don’t need a tissue!” Bill wiped his nose on his sleeve and crossed his arms.

“Whatever you say. How’d you even do that?”

“Do what?”

“Cry on command. How can you even do that?”

Bill wiped his eyes for the final time, his tears having dried. “It’s simple! Just compile all your worst memories and view them rapid-fire!”

Dipper raised a brow. “Is… is that healthy?”

“Haha, _nope!”_ Bill looked incredibly proud of himself.

“Then don’t do it!”

“But I like doing it!”

That made Dipper pause. “You like crying on command?”

“It’s a great manipulation tool!” Bill defended holding his hands up. Dipper wasn’t convinced.

“Yeah dude, sure.” He rolled his eyes. “Still, it’s pretty concerning that you’re able to do that.”

“Ohhh, concerning? Is the mortal worried about the poor widdle Bill Cipher?”

“N-no! Well, I mean, a little- you _did_ have a nightmare after all. Speaking of, you didn’t even tell me that much about it!”

“Dammit.” Bill muttered, “I thought I could avoid that.”

Dipper pat his back.”Not a chance, dude. I’m missing sleep for this, I don’t want it to go to waste.”

“Hey, why _are_ you awake, anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

The letter flashed through Dipper’s mind and for a second, he felt bad for stealing from Bill. However, he recalled all the things the letter could possibly be, and his guilt disappeared.

“I dunno,” he lied. “Just one of those nights. I guess.”

“Ohhhh…” Bill yawned and rubbed at his eyes, laying back down. “Well, I’m tired! Everything feels like it’s a thousand pounds! Human bodies are _terrible_ ! How do you _live_ like this?” He yawned again, and Dipper shrugged.

“I dunno, man, I guess you just gotta get used to it?”

“Well, I better get used to it fast.” His words were slurred out as he closed his eyes and started to drift off once more. Dipper took Bill’s sheets and draped them over him, prompting Bill to crack an eye open.

“What’re you doin’?” He mumbled

“I dunno,” Dipper admitted, fidgeting. “Uh, goodnight, Bill.”

“‘Night.”

Dipper got up and walked out of Bill’s room, pausing in the doorway.

“Hey, wait!” He turned back to face Bill. “We barely even talked about your nightmare!”

Loud, obviously fake snores resonated from Bill’s bed; Dipper rolling his eyes at the immaturity.

“Alright dude, but we’re totally talking about this tomorrow!”

 _“Snzzzz_ I doubt it _snnzzz….”_

Dipper chuckled. “We’ll see, Bill.” He gently closed the door and made his way back into his own room, laying awake in his bed for a long while after, Contemplating what had just happened.

* * *

_Monday, June 24_

_Bill had a nightmare last night? It’s still so weird to think about! BILL CIPHER, demon of DREAMS, had a NIGHTMARE?? It was apparently about his dimension? And how he destroyed it? I don’t get it! Aren’t nightmares about stuff you can’t control? I think that’s why they’re so scary? But HE destroyed his own dimension! That’s like, the most control you can HAVE over your dimension being destroyed! So why’d he have a nightmare about it? And why didn’t he want to talk to me about it? Is there more to the story? Something he didn’t tell me? Something he didn’t tell ANYONE? Something he himself didn’t know abou_

Dipper was snapped out of his concentration by a clattering noise from downstairs, sounding as if someone was demolishing a room with their bare hands, and doing a great job at it. Suddenly, a shout rang out, so loudly that Dipper could hear it as if it came from outside his room, even though it came from downstairs.

 **_“WHERE IS IT???_ ** **”**

The voice was loud and its owner was obvious. So Dipper and Mabel rushed downstairs to see what was happening.

Stan and Ford stood in the hallway, looking into Bill’s room. Dipper peeked in himself, and his blood ran cold.

Bill was frantically running around his room, turning everything upside down—at this point, it looked like his room was hit by a tornado. His drawers were pulled out, bed overturned, his very few belongings strewn across the room.

“What’re you looking for, Bill?” Mabel piped up before Dipper could warn her not to.”

“A- a letter!” Bill forced out through gritted teeth. “I wrote it and put it in THAT DRAWER. Now it’s GONE! I NEED it!” Bill’s eyes fell on Dipper, and he immediately stopped his frantic scurrying, suddenly lunging at him, grabbing him by the collar and pinning him to the wall.

 _“You!_ You stole it, didn’t you? Last night!”

“Wh-no, I—”

“I should’ve _known_ that concern was just a cover-up! Why would you be concerned?”

Before Dipper could protest, Stan wrapped his arms around Bill’s midsection and pulled him off Dipper.

“That’s enough’a that, kid,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“No!” Bill frantically kicked his legs and tried to get out of Stan’s hold. “He took my letter! He took it!”

Dipper awkwardly stepped back, and bolted up to his room, slamming and locking the door behind him. His entire body was trembling, and he felt like he was going to pass out from hyperventilation. Pushing past it, he frantically reached under his mattress and pulled the letter out of its hiding place. It was wrinkled, and slightly torn in a few places, but thankfully it didn’t look like it’d affect its readability. Dipper gripped the paper in his shaking hands, slowly opening it to finally read its contents. And he did, and it was like his entire being came to a halt.

He tightly gripped the paper, as if it’d fly away if he let go, and he read it again. And again. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. He _refused_ to. It had to be a fake. Dipper stood up and marched downstairs, confused when he didn’t see Bill near his room. He heard voices from the kitchen, though, and headed there.

Bill was sitting at the kitchen table. Mabel next to him. HIs hands were in his lap and Mabel was gently patting his back.

“I- he can’t find it, Shooting Star- Not till I’m ready.” Bill’s voice had a tremor to it, and Mabel frowned.

“It’ll turn up,” she reassured him. “Don’t worry….”

“Yeah, it’ll turn up in _Pinetree’s hand!_ He stole it, I know he did! And then he’s gonna laugh and show everyone!”

Mabel raised a brow. “Laugh? Why would he laugh?”

“I- you’ll find out when it’s time.”

Dipper cut him off. “I’m not laughing, Bill!”

Both Mabel and Bill jumped. Before either of them could speak, Dipper continued.

“What’s the meaning of _this?_ ” He shoved the letter in Bill’s face, making sure that Mabel wasn’t able to see the contents.

Bill’s face was instantly drained of its color. “I-”

“ _Answer me!_ ”

Bill started visibly trembling, and suddenly bolted out of his chair, the twins hearing the front door slam open a second after. Dipper immediately started chasing after him.

“Dipper, wait!” Mabel called, “What’d the letter say?”

“I’ll tell you when I get back!” he called behind him, bolting out the door. He frantically looked around for Bill, spotting him not that far away. Dipper ran towards Bill, gaining on him easily, as the man still wasn’t used to his human body. Once Dipper was close enough, he lunged forward, tackling Bill and sending them both onto the ground.

 **“** **_OW!_ ** **”** Bill yelled, and Dipper was going to ask if he was okay, but Bill started trying to squirm away before he could say anything.

“Get offa me, Pinetree!” he cried, kicking his legs in an attempt to hurt Dipper, “Get off!”

Dipper tightened his hold, noticing that he could feel Bill’s ribs, “No, Bill! This it- This is serious! How could you fake something like this?”

Bill’s struggling stopped for a split second. “Fake?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Bill!” Dipper yelled, “There’s no way this is real! What kind of _sick joke_ is this?”

“Okay, okay, you got me! It was just some prank I wanted to pull on you guys! I just wanted to see what would happen!”

“What’s _WRONG_ with you?”

Bill managed to wriggle out from under Dipper, thating a few steps back. “What’s wrong with _me?_ ” he argued, “What’s wrong with _you?_ You stole from me, and assumed it was a fake straight up!”

Dipper got up, dusting himself off. “I _know_ you, Bill! You’d never write something like that!”

“You barely _talk_ to me! Name one thing you know about me!”

“You’re _loud!_ ”

“Anyone could say that!”

Bill lunged toward Dipper, who stepped back. “Give it back!”

“You’re acting like it isn’t fake!”

“It _is_ fake!” Bill protested, a little too frantically.

“Then why do you care whether or not I thought it was fake?”

“Because what if it _wasn’t!?_ ”

“There’s no way it isn’t!”

“You don’t know for sure!”

“You TOLD ME it was fake!”

“I lie, Dipper! It’s what I do!”

“So it’s not fake?”

“It _is_ fake! J-just _look at it!_ ”

Dipper was done with Bill’s protesting and subsequent denial. “Yeah…” he said, preemptively taking steps backwards away from Bill. “I looked at it.”

This entire time, Dipper was holding the letter, it getting dirty in the tussle. “But did _you?_ ”

“Yeah, I did! I wrote it!” Bill tried to grab it again, and Dipper stepped back again.

“Then you should know how impossible it is for this to be real!”

“It _isn’t_ real!” Dipper ignored him.

“I mean, _look at this!_ ” Dipper held the paper up to eye level. Bill instantly understood what he was going to do, and ran toward him. Dipper expected this, however, and started running away.

“Give it _back!_ ” Bill demanded, but the harshness was lost as the short, too-skinny man struggled to keep up. Dipper disregarded him and started to read aloud for Bill to heard.

“ _Dear Pines family—or if Sixer found this, just Sixer, ‘cause he’d never show this to anyone._ ”

Dipper took sharp breaths every few words, still not slowing down. He could hear Bill crying out for him to stop it, but he pushed the sounds away and continued.

“ _If you’re reading this, I’m dead, or you stole it, or what I did didn’t work, but hopefully that first one.”_

Dipper stopped to catch his breath for a second before started to run again, Bill desperately lunging for the letter every time he got close.

“ _I know that’s cliché, but that’s the truth! I also know that you’re all super confused, but just know that this is what I want, and I kind of wanted this for a long time.”_

“Pinetree, stop it! Someone’s gonna hear you!”

“ _GOOD!_ ” Dipper shot back.

“ _I didn’t want to come back. I was kind of miffed that I did. Stupid Frills-”_ What-? _“-said it was for redemption, so there! That’s the big secret about why I’m back! I’m okay with admitting this now, because you can’t confront me on this, because I’m dead! If I’m not dead, just leave me there! I’ll be pretty mad if you don’t! I guess that’s all I have to say. Thanks for not killing me, I really appreciate it. I wanted to do it myself, y’know? I guess this is it. The demon’s gone. You can go to sleep now, or whatever!”_

Dipper suddenly stopped, his face red from fury. “Signed, _William Mischief Cipher!_ ”

He waited for Bill to jump on him, rip the letter out of his hand, and start punching him, but nothing came. Dipper looked behind him and saw nothing. Confused, he walked back the way he came from. It barely took any time to spot a yellow lump curled up under a tree. Dipper walked up to Bill and poked him.

“Dude, you okay? Why’d you just _stop_ chasing me? Are you ashamed or something?”

What Bill didn’t answer, Dipper felt a pang of concern. What if he passed out or something? Bill wasn’t fully used to his new body yet—what if he accidentally made him overexert it?

“You think it’s fake?” Bill muttered, making Dipper jump from shock.

“Yeah… but that’s ‘cause you _told_ me it was…” The anger that Dipper had towards him for faking it had started to dissipate, replaced with a pit of anxiety and the feeling that he made a terrible, terrible mistake.

“No. You thought it was fake before.”

Dipper sat next to Bill, hugging his legs close and resting his chin on his knees. “It… It’s not fake, is it…?”

“No,” Bill muttered, “‘S’ not fake.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for awhile, the only movement being Bill sitting up and mimicking Dipper’s position. Dipper noted that Bill’s right side was covered in dirt, and his bare feet were dirty and cut up. Both of them were still in their pajamas; neither of them had any time to change. At least Dipper had socks, and he thanked whatever that was up there that his feet weren’t cut up like Bill’s.

The silence was unbearable for both of them, and Dipper felt his anxiety rise with every moment of strained silence. He awkwardly turned to Bill and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Your middle name is Mischief?”

Bill nodded. “Yep”

“How’d that happen?”

“Birth parents’ last names,” he stated curtly. “My birth mom begged my mom.”

Dipper raised a brow. “Birth mom?”

“I was _adopted,_ Pinetree.”

“Oh.” Dipper fidgeted. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you adopted?”

“It was the law.” Bill noticed Dipper’s confused expression, and elaborated. “My brother—and I—we both looked like _this._ ” Bill grabbed a stick and drew an equilateral triangle in the dirt.

“And my parents—the real ones—looked like this.”Bill drew an isosceles triangle beside the first.

“Well, my dad did. Mom was just a line. Anyway, those shapes can’t talk to each other a lot, ‘cause those-” Bill pointed to the isosceles “-were lower class than the other ones. So we had to go to parents that looked like us.”

“That’s dumb,” Dipper said before he could stop it from slipping out.

Bill threw his arms out in front of him. “ _Yeah!_ ”

“Glad you agree- I mean, I just dissed your home-”

“Diss it all you want!” Bill interrupted. “Flatland was _terrible!_ ”

“Flatland? Like that book?”

“Yeah, pretty much. We had that book, the real one. As a memoir. Our world had no name, it just _was._ I just call it that ‘cause of that memoir.”

“So, like… There was no color and stuff?”

“Nah, there was. That memoir was a thousand-something years old when I found it! There was a power boom thing—rapid evolution and stuff. Like this!” Bill ignited a tiny flame on the tip of his finger.

“You were _born_ with that?”

“Uh-huh! And we got this weird mockery of 3D sight, which- wait, how d'ya _think_ I got fire powers?”

“I don’t know!” Dipper defended. “I just- didn’t expect you to be _born_ with it is all- I thought you were just a regular kid!”

Bill laughed, his hand flying up to his mouth. _“Pfffhahahaha!_ Me, _regular?_ Jeez, you really needta get your head in the game!”

Dipper looked away, embarrassed. “Yeah, you’re right… A-anyway, what was that about- about the 3D sight?”

“Suuure, kid, try and change the subject to distract from your terrible mistake! _But!_ I’ll allow it! I’d better not piss you off _too_ badly, or you’d just blab all this to the first person you see!

“I wouldn’t do _that…”_ Dipper muttered. Bill either didn’t hear him or heard him but didn’t acknowledge it, and simply continued.

 _“Anyway!_ ‘Cause we could _suddenly, out of nowhere, I mean LITERALLY OUT OF NOWHERE_ see 3D, everyone got mad ‘cause everything was all boring and colorless! So there was a Color War- or was it a Color _Revolution?_ I forgot, honestly. I wasn’t there and fell asleep in class! But it happened, and we didn’t get color ‘till the higher-ups complained.”

Dipper’s hopes that Bill was talking about his own life were dashed when he mentioned that he wasn’t there. Deep down he wondered why Bill was even bringing it up if it didn’t matter, but maybe he needed to talk about seemingly random things, without revealing the reason why yet. Anything could help or hurt, so Dipper kept his mouth shut. Bill might be acting chipper, but the reason why they were out in the forest echoed through Dipper’s mind over and over. One thing Bill said, however, stuck out to him.

“Hey, Bill?” He questioned. “If you weren’t even paying attention, how’d you know that’s how it ended?”

“‘Cause I remember being really _mad_ about it in class. I mean- you’re either a circle or you _don’t matter._ That’s how it _worked!”_

Dipper remembered that book- triangles were almost the bottom rung. Equilaterals had it a little bit better than the others, but that wasn’t saying much, comparably. “Jeez, I’m sorry that happened to you…”

“It didn’t happen to _me!_ God, kid, were you even _listening?”_

“I- well, not that color war thing, but like- growing up in that kinda place. I mean it sounds terrible. I don’t wanna say that I understand _why_ you destroyed it, but I _do_ understand why you were so nonchalant about it.”

“Do you wanna know why?”

“Why you destroyed it?” Dipper leaned forward in rapt interest. “Why?”

“I didn’t have a reason why.”

“Wha-”

“It was an accident.”

Dipper’s entire core was shook from that statement. _An accident._ If it was an accident, then why Weirdmageddon? Why anything?

“My brother,” Bill continued. “My friends. All _gone_ ‘cause of one stupid mistake!”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, you aren’t,” he said, bitterly.

“I am, really… Is this what you thought about last night…? To- to cry on command?”

“No.”

That made Dipper’s blood run cold. Something _worse_ than accidentally destroying everything you’ve ever held near and dear? “What- what was it…? If you don’t mind me asking. But we’ve been having a heart-to-heart in the middle of a forest, and you’ve spilled about everything else up until now, so…”

Bill sighed and closed his eyes, as if collecting himself, then opened them again after a minute or two. “It was… something called _irregular breeding.”_

Dipper wondered if it was some other revolution for the rights of irregulars- but by the way Bill spat it out like it was a vulgarity, he decided that was not the case.

“Y’know how we all have powers, right? We’re born with ‘em, they’re in our genes?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, there was this one really powerful one that the higher-ups wanted for themselves. They wanted to use that- that law of nature that your kid has one more side than you- to breed that power up to them. But the _problem_ was- that power they wanted? Was a mutation of the gene that caused irregularity. They basically had to treat them like _people_ to get what they wanted! But they couldn’t do _that, ohhh no, because how would THAT affect the poor widdle rich people?”_

“So what did they do…?”

“Well, Flatland was split into two parts, see?” He drew a rectangle with a line going down the middle, and marked one side with an “E” and the other with a “W.” “East and West Flatland. I lived around _here,_ by the way.” He tapped the stick on the lower right hand corner of the “E” side.

“Was there a wall between them?”

“Nah, but honestly, now that you bring it up? It’s kinda weird that there wasn’t. Anyway- the higher-ups came up with this… _brilliant_ plan. They’d just let _all_ Irregulars live on _one_ side-West- to see if that power shows up- and let ‘em breed and all that stuff. And the other side, East? Just kept tossing newborn babies into incinerators. Business as usual!”

Dipper curled in on himself a little more. He’d known about the treatment of irregulars from his readings, but hearing it firsthand from someone who lived there made him want to throw up right then and there. “That- that’s _horrible!_ But… what… does that have to do with you?”

Bill smiled- a wide smile that seemed to contort his face in ways that a human face should not go. “Do you want to know. _Which_ power they so _desperately_ wanted?”

“I-”

Bill lit his hand ablaze. _“It’s the BIG REVEAL, Pinetree!_ **_THAT’S_ ** what it had to do with me! I sat in an incinerator for **_THREE DAYS_ ** before some nurse realized I was a little less **_DEAD_ ** than all the OTHER kids tossed in there for LOOKING A LITTLE FUNNY! I was _shipped off_ to live with my adopted dad, just like my brother! And I had to get some- some _surgery_ to look like what _THEY_ thought was normal! _I THOUGHT IT LOOKED COOL, BUT DID THEY CARE? NO! I WAS ON THE LOWEST RUNG OF SOCIETY- AND I_ **_STAYED_ ** _THERE! I HAD NOTHING!”_ Bill was full-on screaming, tears leaking down his face, although Dipper had a feeling that Bill didn’t know he was crying.

 _“I HAD NO LIFE! I WAS JUST- I JUST- I WAS ALIVE BECAUSE SOME- RICH ASSHOLES WANTED A THING I COULD DO! I COULDN’T EVEN HAVE KIDS ON MY OWN! IT WAS ALL GOVERNMENT-MANDATED! BECAUSE I LIVED ON THE EAST SIDE! THE SIDE WHERE EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE AND YOU’RE_ **_CONSTANTLY_ ** _REMINDED THAT THE_ **_ONLY_ ** _REASON YOU’RE ALIVE IS BECAUSE YOU GOT LUCKY!”_

Bill took gasping breaths as his tears continued to flow; him finally realizing that they were there, and frantically scrubbing at them with his sleeve. Dipper felt like he was never meant to see this, like this was some sort of private moment that he was intruding on, even though Bill relayed this story to him specifically. He never thought he’d feel sympathy for _Bill Cipher,_ but it honestly hurt to see him cry. He knew that there was a chance that he could be faking, but deep down, he had a gut feeling that he wasn’t. He inched closer to Bill and hesitantly wrapped his arms around him.

“Hey- don’t worry… Earth- Earth is _nothing_ like that. I mean- sure you might not be able to control time or whatever, but, I mean, you can still be happy and stuff without having to make everything be a fiery inferno. Like- you can have a life!”

Bill had turned around and reluctantly leaned into the hug, hiding his face in his arms. Dipper awkwardly started to pat his hair. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you looked cooler as a kid.”

A muffled and weak “I have pictures…” resonated from Bill. Dipper’s eyes widened at that.

“Whoa, dude, you do? Like, real actual pictures from Flatland?”

“Mm-hmm. Frills was- _kind-_ enough to let me keep them… I can show you, if you want.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, why- why not…? I haven’t told anyone any of this before, so why not have fun with the one guy that _does_ know?”

“Wait, you _haven’t told anyone?_ And here I was wondering why you spilled it all to me! It was all stopped up!”

“Heey, emotion bottling is a _great_ way to deal with problems! Don’t knock it ‘till you try it!”

“Dude, I _have_ tried it. And it’s terrible.”

“...yeah, it kind of _is_ terrible.”

“Are… you gonna try and stop doing it?”

_“Nope!”_

“Figures.”

  
Bill sniffled and wiped at his face again, but didn’t move to worm out of Dipper’s awkward embrace.

“Hey… Bill? Was all that stuff... _why?”_

To his surprise, Bill nodded. “Just knowing that, on top of _everything else I’ve done…_ It kinda doesn’t feel like I’ll ever live it down, y’know?”

“I can’t… say that I _do_ know… but you’re getting somewhere with me. Maybe if you be more, I dunno, genuine? I’m kinda starting to warm up to you after this, and I _hated_ you. Like, you were the _main_ cause of my nightmares for the past year. You possessed me _and_ self-harmed in my body! I still have a scar from one of the forks…”

Bill’s head shot up at that. “You do? Hell, I’m sorry-”

“It’s… fine, I guess. I don’t really notice it much, I dunno why I brought it up. Hey, how’s your wrist? Y’know, from the other day?”

Bill rolled up his sleeve and checked on it. His healing powers kicked in and took care of the damage, but there was a faded scar left. “It’s… better.”

“Man, that bites… scars are the _worst.”_

“Yeah… unless they look cool and you can tell a cool story!”

“Yeah! Hey- wanna think of cool stories for ours?”

“Maybe!”

They both were smiling, and Bill finally wormed out of the hug- which Dipper was thankful for; it was starting to get really awkward.

“Hey, Bill?” Dipper asked, heasitantly.

“Yeah?”

“If… if you ever wanna write another one of _these_ again-” -he held up the note- “-could you talk to me instead or something?”

“I’ll try? Being all mushy and feelsy isn’t my _thing,_ though.”

“Then we can just talk about anything. I can- I can show you my video games, or something? I’m sorry, I’m not that good at this-”

“You’re better than the average thirteen year old, I’ll give ya that!”

“So… I helped?”

“Surprisingly? Yeah. I didn’t expect it to work, honestly.”

“Emotion bottling, Bill. It kind of sucks, a lot.”

“Jeez, you sound like my brother!”

“Well I can see which one of you got the _brains.”_

_“Heey!”_

Bill playfully punched Dipper in the shoulder. “If he was here,” he said, “he’d totally agree with you. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’d say that same exact thing!”

Dipper laughed at that. “Oh, yeah? Do you think we’d get along? What was he like?”

“Oh, yeah, you’d _definitely_ get along! He was a _HUGE_ nerd! His name was Caesar and he liked reading and he worked at a bookstore that he ended up owning! There was a buncha banned books in a secret room. He wasn’t above breaking laws when necessary! He’s broken like… ten or something. Some of them because of association with me.”

 _“Some_ of them?”

“Okay, okay, _most_ of them.”

“Thaaat’s more like it.”

Bill rolled his eyes and stood up, stretching. “Wanna head back?”

Dipper stood up as well. “Yeah, why not. Mabel is probably worried sick about us.”

“I’m kinda surprised she didn’t follow us out here!”

“Me too. Maybe she didn’t wanna accidentally eavesdrop?”

“That could be it!”

A thought suddenly sparked in Dipper’s mind. “Oh- Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“A couple days ago, when you were looking in the Journal- why did you do that?”

Bill shrugged. “I dunno, I guess I was looking for a reason not to do it…? Something to give me just- a _sign_ that I wasn’t just trying to be better for _nothing.”_

“Well… isn’t the whole point of being better about changing for yourself?”

“I guess.” Bill kicked a small rock, sending it flying. “But it _is_ kind of discouraging when nobody seems to care about what you’re doing.”

“I can… see that. But hey, I’m sure they’ll come around eventually. Mabel already likes you well enough, and I kinda warmed up to you after today. And Grunkle Stan seems to care about you in his weird, gruff way. Like- he bothered to bandage you up when you got hurt!”

“He put that bandage on my wrist, too…” he muttered.

“See! You’re doing _fine,_ dude.”

Bill smiled a little bit. “Yeah… I’m good at this!” He started walking proudly, but stopped and turned around, facing Dipper with an expression on his face like he came to an amazing realization.

_“Noodles!”_

Dipper blankly stared at him. _“What.”_

“Noodles!” he repeated. “For your new nickname! ‘Cause you have noodle arms!” He poked Dipper’s arm for emphasis. “And besides, who doesn’t love noodles?”

Dipper chuckled at the absurdity of it. “Y’know what? Why not!”

Bill fist-pumped with a little proud _‘Yes!’_ and started heading back, Dipper in tow.

* * *

After Bill stopped Dipper at the doorstep to ask him if it looked like he’d been crying for the tenth time, they both stepped into the shack, and were immediately confronted by Mabel.

“Are you okay?” She asked, eyes darting from Dipper to Bill and back again. “Bill, you look like you’ve been crying-”

“I’m _fine,”_ Bill snapped, pushing past her. “I’m going to bed.”

“But it’s not even noon!” Mabel protested.

 _“Bed,_ Shooting Star!” He briskly walked away, the twins hearing a door slam a few seconds later. Mabel started to walk after him, but Dipper grabbed her shoulder.

“Let him be, Mabel.” He said, hoping that his tone was serious enough. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

He led her up to their room and sat on his bed, holding the letter that Bill never bothered to take back from him. “You were right about him, Mabel.”

“I was?” She sat down next to him, and sadly stared at the floor.

“Why are you so upset, Mabel?” Dipper put a hand on her shoulder in concern.

“Because I was _right!_ I didn’t _want_ him to be hurting! How’d you find out?”

Dipper held the letter up. “Suicide note.”

Mabel covered her mouth in shock. “Oh no…” she muttered. “Why…?”

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell.”

Mabel nodded in acknowledgement. “Can I at least see what it says…?”

“Sure.” Dipper handed her the note, and she read it, looking like she was about to cry at the end of it.

“It’s like he doesn’t even _care!”_ She cried, gripping the letter.

“Yeah, that’s Bill for you… But- but I did tell him he could talk to me.”

“Will he?”

“It sounded like he was gonna at least _try._ I mean- he did say that I helped him out there.”

“That’s a good sign…”

“Yeah…”

They sat there for a while, deep in thought.

“What are we gonna do?” Mabel asked.

“...I could tell Grunkle Ford? I dunno, maybe he’ll lay off him at least?”

“What if he doesn’t believe that it’s real?” Mabel protested. “What if he gets mad at Bill?”

Dipper felt a pang of guilt over his previous actions. “He’ll believe _me…_ and if I tell him not to talk about it, he won’t. He may hate Bill, but he’s not an idiot.”

Mabel played with her hair nervously. “I… maybe… I’m just scared it’ll make it worse…”

“If it does, it’s on me. And I can do this. I _know_ you were right the last time I told you not to worry, but… this is different. Grunkle Ford is family. He might’ve been wrong before, but I trust him”

Mabel took a deep breath, and nodded. “I trust him, too.”

* * *

Stanford Pines was in his basement lab, mulling over the events of the day. Bill was never the most stable individual, but his outburst that morning struck Ford as different. Less mad, and more scared. Desperate. It made him wonder if there was something going on with Bill, something he never knew about.

The elevator _dinged_ behind him, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned around to greet whoever it was, surprised to see Dipper walking towards him silently, anxiety written all over his face. Before Ford could ask what was wrong, he held out a worn, dirty letter. It was folded over three-ways, with _Dear Pines Family_ written on the front, in the sloppy handwriting that he was intimately familiar with.

“Grunkle Ford?” Dipper said, looking him in the eyes. “You need to see this.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my LONGEST oneshot to date, _by far,_ and it's about Bill Cipher's suicide note. Life is weird. But comment if you liked it? Please?


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